


Swan Song: The Final Act

by Alpha_Writes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Character Death, Final Battle, Heavy Angst, I did, Michael!Dean, Mild Language, Mostly bitter, One Shot, Self-Sacrifice, Sorry Not Sorry, as in i hope you cry like a baby, destiel but it's sad, season 14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 23:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15673776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alpha_Writes/pseuds/Alpha_Writes
Summary: This is it, the final show down. Sam, Castiel, and Jack have cornered Michael. He's weak and they have the chance to end it, once and for all. And better yet, they have a plan. But if you know anything about the Winchesters, plans don't always work out.





	Swan Song: The Final Act

**Author's Note:**

> You might want to grab a box of tissues.

            Everything in Sam’s body was tied up in knots. Things have moved so fast. Finally, _finally_ , they cornered Michael, he was weak and out of options. They had the ability to end it now. But he didn’t think he would have the guts to do it. In the end this was his big brother. Sam tried to calm himself by slowing his breathing, focusing on it. All he had to do was stick to the plan. Get Michael to his weakest point so they can kill him. This, of course, was easier said than done. But they had the plan, and it was a good fucking plan at that. Crafted by the late Bobby Singer himself. It couldn’t go wrong. Could it?

            Sam parked the Impala just next to the church, stepping out with Castiel and Jack close behind. The mid-day sun fell on his cheeks, the heat unregistered on his cold hands. He removed his gun from his waist band, filled with angel-killing bullets. Loading it Sam nodded to Jack, then Castiel. With nods back, they stalked into the abandoned church, worn from time. Jack held his gun tightly, his knuckles snow white. The kid was terrified, his powers were gone forever, he had nothing to defend himself. Sam prayed that he taught him enough. If it were his choice, he would’ve never brought Jack to this fight. It was Sam’s fight and his alone. But there was no one left.

            Jack and Castiel hung back, Sam went forward. A man sat at the first row, slumping in his seat. He walked up behind him, slowly.

            “Heya, Sammy,” the man said, not turning around. Sam gritted his teeth. He had half a mind to shot him point blank. Who knew what he was putting Dean through? Endless nightmares? Torture? Hell? All this and he had the _audacity_ to taunt him? But he knew whatever happened to the son of a bitch would affect Dean. Sam wanted his brother back and he wanted him back alive.

            “It’s Sam,” he spat, cocking his gun. Michael chuckled, his shoulders bouncing from behind the pew. The archangel stood, facing Sam and gave him a cruel smirk. It looked nothing like Dean. Dean’s smirk always had a playfulness about it. This… this was cold. It made him cringe.

            Sam kept his gun steady and mentally looked towards the weight of Bobby’s plan in his back pocket. _That’s it, take a bite, you motherfucker._

            “You won’t shoot. You love him too much,” Michael played, his smirk only deepening. He was right of course. Sam would never shoot his brother. Not on purpose. And not with reason. But that’s not what he intended to do. He heard the shifting of the two men behind him, just out of sight. His heart rate quickened as Michael’s eyes shifted to look behind him for a split second. They weren’t supposed to give away their position. Sam tried to distract Michael.

            “Maybe, maybe not. Depends on how much you move,” Sam growled, trying to hold Michael’s gaze.

            “You brought friends.” he smiled a sickening smile. Fuck. “Was killing your mother not enough for you? Your little cheer group?” Sam’s breath became heavy, he knew he was staring death in the eyes. “Now I have to kill your guard dog and would-be son too? How tragic,” Michael huffed.

            “You’ll have to get through me first,” Sam shot back. But before he could do anything else, Jack came up from behind him pushing Sam away. Jack wrestled to put the angel bomb on Michael’s skin with a battle cry of rage. The archangel was weak but he put up a fight. Sam yelled for Jack to get out of there. It was too late. Before he knew it, a hand was pressed to Jack’s forehead and his eyes went up in flames. And Sam couldn’t even call out his name before he was tossed to the back wall like a ragdoll. He must have hit his head hard; black spots swam in and out of his vision. It hurt too much to stand. Through blurry vision he could see Michael wince in intense pain, weak from a lack of power. Then tan ran in front of Sam, blocking his sight of the archangel.

            “Dean!” Castiel shouted, his stance firm. Sam couldn’t tell what was happening, the voices were echoing in his head. He tried to get up to help, but could only watch through foggy glasses.

            “Dean,” Castiel shouted again, his voice cracking. “Remember who you are.” Sam could only guess that Michael was getting weaker. They could finally get through to Dean. Castiel walked closer to Michael, cringing away. Sam could finally stand, but his vision was still wonky. But if anyone could get to Dean, it’s Cas, so he relaxed slightly.

            Castiel could now hold the other man’s face and get close to him. The entire time Sam could see the internal struggle on his face.

            “Remember your mother, your brother.” He paused. “Remember me, Dean,” he said softly. _Dean_ looked to him, guilt stained his features.

            “Cas… d-,” Dean’s words were cut off. Castiel took the leap, closing the gap. Sam just stared. Relief washed over him as the angel’s move was reciprocated. _Finally._ The younger Winchester gingerly grabbed the angel bomb from his pocket. Bobby had designed it. It can kill the angel in a meatsuit without harming the suit itself. It was pure genius. They even got to test it out on some demons. They concluded demons and angel’s had somewhat of the same workings. And it was all they got.

            The angel pulled away, his hand still on Dean’s face. His eyes were still closed from the action, his eyebrows furrowed in pain. Then, he leaned to Castiel’s ear, and whispered something.

            Sam’s hope came crumbling down as a golden rod speared through the angel, a holy light admitting from his eyes as he went limp. As he fell, for the second time, a look of horror echoed on his face. His broken wings burned beside him made him look like a baby bird that had fallen from the nest. Sam realized he was screaming when his lungs became raw.

            “It’s too bad. He loved you too,” Michael said, stepping over the angel’s corpse. Sam was frozen. Whether it was out of anger or fear he couldn’t tell you. However he was able to grasp his senses when Michael stepped closer toward him. Sam raised his hand to use the angel bomb only to have it smacked out of his hand. A strong hand clamped around his neck and raised him up on the wall. Not enough to suffocate him, but enough to hurt like hell. Sam gripped at Michael’s hands with futile attempts to pry free.

            “Ya know, Sam, I once sympathized with you,” Michael purred, slowly choking Sam harder and harder. “You never asked to be the Anti-Christ. Never asked for this prophecy. To have greatness thrusted upon you. In that regard I understand you.

            “I, never asked for an incompetent brother,” he chuckled. “I guess we are the same, you and I.”

            “I, am _nothing_ like you,” Sam choked out, gasping for breath. The black spots were getting bigger. So was his rage. Michael sighed.

            “Your right. I am not pathetic, like you.” His grip got even tighter. All Sam could think was that he was going to die. He was going to die and he couldn’t save them. Any of them. His thoughts mostly went to Dean, how scared he must be, how angry.

            “Dean, please, are you in there?” he begged, his voice but a whisper.

            “Oh, he’s in here, all right. And he’s going to be here to feel every bone in your body break,” he taunted, letting go of his neck and grabbing his shirt. With his other fist he started to repeatedly beat Sam’s jaw into oblivion. Air returned to his lungs only to be knocked out by a blow to the stomach. The pain was everywhere now, his face covered in warm wetness. However, as Michael was shifting his grip, Sam was able to grab him by the coat.

            “Dean… it’s okay… it’s okay. I’m here… I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m not gonna leave you,” Sam gasped, calling out uselessly to whatever was behind those eyes. Michael held up a fist, winding up a punch that would no doubt end it. A cold smirk carved into his lips made him look insane. It absolutely terrified Sam to see that look on his brother’s face. He was truly lost. It’s over.

            Suddenly, Michael’s eyes shifted to Sam’s chest, drawn to something. His eyes widened and his smirk faded. Sam felt the small weight on his chest. _The amulet_. He had worn it for good luck. It was the only thing keeping Sam going. _Dean_ was the only thing keeping Sam going. Over the past few months, Sam had forgiven his brother for risking everything to save him before. He forgave him for saying yes. He understood. He forgave him.

            Slowly, he let go of Sam’s shirt, and the hunter collapsed to the ground. Michael took a few steps back, slightly wobbly. His breathing quickened. He looked down to himself then to Sam. Dean gave a bittersweet smile.

            “It’s okay, Sammy. I got him…” Dean sighed. He looked behind him at the two lifeless bodies, sprawled on the ground. Once he focused on them he quickly looked away, a pained expression on his face. Dean gritted his teeth, using all of his strength to hold back Michael. He looked to the archangel blade, still in hand. With a shaky hands he aimed it towards his gut, and looked up at Sam.

            “Sammy… I love you, brother.” _No. No!_ Sam was too weak to stop what was about to happen next. “Alright you _sonofabitch_ … let’s see how you like _this_ ,” Dean grunted. In a quick movement, Dean’s eyes shined like that of a star, as he was drawn up into the air. Dean’s screams echoed through the empty church. So did the thump when he returned to the ground. All Sam could hear was the sizzling of the seared ground, the wings spread to a great length.

            Then, silence.

            Just, silence.

* * *

 

            Sam didn’t know how long he sat there and cried with his brother in his arms. Minuets? Hours? Days? All Sam knew was by the time he picked his head up it was sunset and much, much colder. He scraped himself up from the ground, along with his dead family. Numb to the pain of his injuries, he blindly made four hunter funeral burn stacks. He wrapped them in curtains from the church, refusing to look at their faces. Then, robotically glazed them in gasoline.

            He stood in front of the fallen, fiddling with the lighter’s cap. He couldn’t. How could he? His eyes stung but no tears fell. He had none left. Then he felt a wet drop on his hand, and another, and another. It began to rain. Not even the universe cares. Sam made no movement. He just stood and let the rain fall. His long hair flattened against his forehead and neck. He hadn’t cut his hair in a while, he noticed. He even had a beard now. It’s strange, Sam it beginning to notice how not ok he’s going to be. It won’t matter. Not for long.

            A couple of whooshes sounded behind Sam. He didn’t turn around. The slushing of mud moved closer to him until it stopped next to the hunter.

            “My condolences,” a female voice said.

            “What do you want, Naomi,” Sam croaked. She said nothing. “I’m sorry you didn’t get your precious archangel for heaven. If you want to kill me, you’re gonna have to wait in line,” he rasped, still fiddling with the lighter.

            “Whether you like or not, Winchester, we mourn the loss of a brother this day too,” Naomi asserted, walking towards the stacks. Sam huffed. The angels never really changed. Always clinging to whatever commander is there, even from other worlds. However, that thought changed when he saw the small group of angels walk towards Castiel’s stack. It made since. He wanted to cry again but chose not to.

* * *

 

            The angels mourned as much as they could then left. Leaving Sam alone once again. Even after the rain ended, he still couldn’t do it. He knows he should. Something in him won’t let him. Like if he does it, it will really be over.

            “What are you waiting for?” another female voice said behind him. He flinched and spun around. A woman in black coat and clothes stood, scythe in hand. She walked closer to Sam, confidence radiating with every step.

            “Billie, I… I’m…” Sam said, voice hoarse. It hurt to talk. He screamed and cried too much. She stopped him.

            “I know what you are going to do,” she said, gesturing to the empty stack. “Word of advice: don’t. They wouldn’t want you to.” Her tone was very strange for her character. Almost as if she cared for him. Maybe. Most likely not.

            “I can’t,” the salty hunter lamented, looking down.

            “Can’t? Or won’t?” The Reaper chided. When Sam lifted his head she was gone. And he was alone. For good this time.

* * *

 

            He watched the flames in his rear view. He didn’t have the heart to stay. Not without joining them. So he left, with broken bones, broken mind, and broken heart. To live the rest of his days in the vow to live the most apple pie life. For Dean. For all of them. Who cared if the world ended? Sam is no hero. Not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Readers! Do I want this to happen? No. Would it be cool if it did? Yes, but I wouldn't like it. If you didn't cry that's ok just as long as you died a little inside. If you did, MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Hoped you enjoyed (or didn't)! Till you read again. 
> 
> -Alph <3


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